History is Happening
by RainyDayReading
Summary: After watching Hamilton, Kay and her best friend Miranda get sucked into the past. They have a chance to change history. But everything comes at a price. When the consequences of their changes spiral out of control, will they be able to bring the world back to normal once again?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I leave the theater in an almost dreamlike state. I feel as if I'm floating. I can't believe what I've just witnessed.

I clasp Miranda's hand in my own so we don't get separated in the crowd and pull her forward. We exit the building and step into the cool night air. The only thing I can hear are the honks and screeches of the cars jam-packed into the streets. The air is thick with bus fumes and the smell of frying meat from a nearby food truck.

I love New York City.

I turn to look at Miranda. People are flooding out of the theater and dispersing all around us.

Her eyes are wide as saucers and glazed over. She's smaller than me, with short, pixie-cut, caramel-colored hair, hazel eyes, and pale skin. Her flashy blue glasses are perched on the end of her nose.

"Kay," she whispers to me.

"Miranda," I whisper back.

She takes a deep breath. "We. Just. Saw. _Hamilton."_

We stare at each other for a moment.

Then we start screaming, squealing, leaping up and down and twirling in the middle of the sidewalk like crazy people. Nobody pays us any notice.

That's another thing I love about New York. Everyone is too immersed in their own business to care about two fangirls freaking out near a theater.

" _THAT WAS AMAZING!"_ I shout. The wind pulls the words out of my mouth and carries them away.

" _I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!"_ Miranda yells back.

We continue belting Hamilton lyrics as we walk towards the train station.

We've been fans of the musical for months now. Ever since we heard the first song, we were hooked. We listened to Hamilton music _non-stop_ (cough-cough, _Hamilton reference,_ cough-cough), and we'd both become immersed in the fandom.

I push my dark, long, wavy hair out of my brown eyes and push my square glasses up my nose. I smooth my black Hamilton T-shirt- Miranda is wearing a matching one- and focus on making sure I don't trip over my own two feet while we walk.

"What time is it?" Miranda asks me.

I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket. "Close to ten," I respond. "Want to go get dinner? I'm starving."

"I'm always up for dinner!" Miranda exclaims. She grins. "We have until eleven before we need to be back at the hotel, right?"

"Right," I confirm. When Miranda and I had won tickets to the show in a raffle, our families had decided to fly to New York from California. Miranda and I had been close since we were babies, so our families decided to stay together in the same hotel.

"Ooh, what about this place?" Miranda points to a small diner across the street. I read the neon sign bolted to the top of the small brick building. _The Traveller's Hub._

"Looks good!" I agree. We dash across the street and push open the wooden door to the diner.

The place is empty except for the three teenage workers standing behind the counter, looking bored. Miranda and I slide into one of the closest booths, whispering to each other.

"Welcome to The Traveller's Hub," someone says flatly. I glance up to see a girl who looks like she's in her early twenties. She's wearing black skinny jeans and a red top, paired with silver flats and silver hoop earrings. "What do you want?"

I'm taken aback by her sudden rude tone, and I can tell Miranda's surprised, too.

"What are your specials today?" Miranda asks politely.

The woman sighs in frustration. Miranda and I exchange looks.

"Specials today… let's see… we have soup. Also pizza. And some canned- um, I mean _fresh-_ seafood. Take your pick."

"I'll take the pizza," I tell our waitress.

"Same here," Miranda says quickly.

The waitress flips her frizzy brown ponytail over her shoulder, pivots on her heel, and stalks away.

"What was that?" Miranda asks me in a low voice.

"I have _no idea,"_ I respond quietly.

Miranda shrugs. I shrug. Our eyes meet and we burst out laughing.

That's the greatest thing about having a best friend. You can laugh at everything and nothing at the same time.

"I don't know about you, but I have to go to the bathroom," Miranda blurts. "I drank, like, eight bottles of sprite since we left the hotel."

"I'll go with you," I tell her. We stand up and make our way towards the back of the restaurant, where a tiny green sign points the way to the restrooms.

We enter the ladies room, a narrow hallway housing three separate stalls. Miranda locks herself in a stall and I stand in front of the single mirror in the bathroom, washing my hands in the marble sink to get rid of germs and any lingering dirt from the theater.

Something about the sink catches my attention. The entire bathroom is made of yellowish rock, and is dimly lit by a lone light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The stalls seem small and cramped, and the mirror is coated with dust.

And then there's the sink, bolted to the wall right below the mirror. It's shiny and new and clean. The silver faucets don't even have a mark on them. The water flows cold and clear over my hands.

It's strange.

If I were asked, _What's wrong with this picture?_ I would say the problem was the sink.

It's too new, clean, perfect, bright…

"What are you thinking about?" Miranda asks.

I stop staring at the sink and blush slightly. What is wrong with me? So the sink is clean. It's not an accomplishment.

"Nothing," I lie. Miranda rolls her eyes and nudges me out of the way so she can wash her hands.

I stand to the side as she splashes water and soap over her fingers, tracing the smooth side of the sink.

" _Look around, look around-"_ I sing quietly, quoting "The Schuyler Sisters" from the musical. " _\- at how lucky we are to be alive right now!"_

Miranda turns off the faucet. "The Schuyler Sisters?" she questions, even though she already knows.

I nod.

Together, we both sing the next line. " _HISTORY IS HAPPENING-"_

Then, before we can even finish our sentence, the crystal-clear, marble-perfect sink explodes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I think I'm screaming. I can't hear anything except for the rushing of wind around me. My hair is flying. The bathroom is filled with smoke and clouds.

I feel Miranda grip my arm. I turn my head to the side, but I can't see her through the wind and grit swirling in the air.

The noise escalates until it's a shrill whine echoing through my head.

Tears trickle down my face.

 _I'mdreamingI'msleepingI'mdyingtheworldisendingstopmakeitstopwhereamiwhat-_

And then it's over. I'm standing upright. My eyes are closed; I'm too afraid to open them.

The air is soft and warm. There's no noise except for the sound of chirping birds. My legs feel like jelly, and I'm swaying slightly in the light breeze.

"Kay?" a voice rasps.

Miranda's voice.

I lick my chapped lips. My mouth is bone-dry. "Mandy," I choke out.

"Are your eyes closed?" she coughs softly.

"Yep," I reply.

"Mine, too," Miranda says. We stop speaking. "Should we open our eyes?"

"I don't want to," I say honestly, fear coursing through me.

There is another beat of silence.

"Kay," Miranda says again. "Do you think we're dead?"

"Yes," I manage to whisper.

"Do you think we're in Heaven or something?"

"Yes."

"What happened back there? In the bathroom?"

"I don't know."

"It had something to do with the sink, didn't it? And maybe with the song lyrics, too…" She pauses. "Kay?"

"Still here, Miranda."

"Before… um… before it happened, were you thinking about the bathroom sink?"

"Yes."

"Were you wondering why it was so clean and weirdly out of place in there?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

I want to laugh.

"Mandy," I say.

"Yes?"

"Let's open our eyes now."

I force my eyelids to flutter open. I'm standing in the middle of a cobblestone street. The sky is sunny and blue, with not a cloud in sight. To the side of the road I can spot tall trees, green leaves exploding into wide canopies where bluejays flutter and chirp on their branches.

"Miranda…" I say slowly. "Where are we?"

I look over at my best friend. She glances up at me.

"Do you think we're dead?" she asks me again in confusion.

"I don't think so," I reply uncertainly. What was this place?

"Wait!" Miranda exclaims. She cocks her head. "Listen."

I strain my ears. "I can't hear anyth-"

"Shh!" Miranda shushes me.

I concentrate. Then I hear it.

Two voices. Angrily shouting.

"What's going on, Kay?" Miranda whispers anxiously.

"I'm not sure," I whisper back. The voices are coming from farther up the street.

"Come on," I say. I start to jog, my sneakers clicking softly on the stone road. Miranda follows. Together, we emerge onto a new portion of the street. Then I see them.

In the center of the road, two men stand, face to face. The man on the right is extremely tall. He looks to be about thirty years old, with a scruffy brown beard that sticks out in tufts at the sides. His black eyes are narrowed, and, despite the heat, he's wearing a long trench coat, long slacks, and loafers.

Across from him is a boy, no more than nineteen years old. His thick brown hair is slightly messy and cropped short. He's wearing a thin cotton shirt with a tan jacket slung over it. His black pants are tucked into sturdy boots.

Then I gasp.

Each of them is holding a gun.

"You're finished, Hamilton," the older man spits. "Finished."

The boy smirks. "We'll see about that, Georgie."

"My name is George," the first man growls.

The boy just grins. "Ready?"

And suddenly, I know exactly who they are.

"Miranda," I whisper frantically. I grab her wrist and pull her to the sidewalk, where we duck behind a tree. "That's George Eacker and Philip Hamilton!"

Miranda licks her lips nervously. "Is this… the duel?"

"I think so," I say. My voice trembles. I think hard, back to my history lessons. I think about the Hamilton musical.

"They challenged each other to a duel," Miranda remembers. "And Philip just wants to defend his dad's, Alexander Hamilton's, honor. So he aims at the sky when he shoots, just like his father told him to."

"But Eacker doesn't," I continue. "He aims right at Philip. And his aim is good. And…" I falter, clearing my throat. "Eacker kills Philip in this duel."

"One!" we hear Philip and Eacker shout in unison. Miranda and I look up. They've turned around, their backs pressed against each other. They take a step apart, still turned around.

"Two!" they say again, advancing forward another step.

"They need to be ten paces away from each other before the duel can start," I tell myself. I'm rambling. I'm nervous.

"Three!"

Another step away, still turned away from the other.

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Miranda," I say urgently in a low voice. "We need to stop this duel."

"Six!"

"But- But we can't do that," Miranda stammers. "I- I think- Kay, that sink in the diner pulled us into the past."

"Seven!"

"I know, Miranda, I know," I say. "We're in the past. That means that if we interfere, we're changing history."

"Eight!"

"You've read tons of books, Kay," Miranda tells me. "What if we cause some awful ripple-effect? We can't change history."

She's right. I know she's right. "So… we just need to sit here and watch him die?"

"Nine!"

Miranda's eyes suddenly shine with determination. "No," she says. "We need to stop the duel."

"We're probably going to regret this later, you know," I warn her.

"I know," she sighs. "What should we do?"

"Ten!"

Slowly, slowly, slowly, Philip Hamilton and George Eacker pivot to face one another.

Eacker lifts his gun first.

Philip points his gun to the sky.

"No!" I scream.

Eacker pulls the trigger.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

My shout must've distracted both Eacker and Philip, because Eacker loses focus and drops his gun. It clatters to the ground. Philip whirls around, stumbling over his own feet and falling flat into the street. The bullet misses him by a mile.

For a moment, there's just stunned silence.

Miranda and I slowly emerge from behind the tree and awkwardly stand in the road. Philip picks himself off the ground.

"Who are you?" he asks finally.

Miranda just shakes her head, speechless.

"My name's Kay," I answer shakily. "Kay Arrowdale. This is my friend, Miranda Greenwood."

Philip and Eacker just stare at us.

"My name's Philip," Philip says slowly. "Philip Hamilton."

"We know!" Miranda blurts.

I elbow her in the ribs.

"Sorry," Miranda whispers. She bites her bottom lip to keep from talking.

"I'm George Eacker," says Eacker. Then he frowns. "You just interrupted our duel!"

Suddenly, I'm annoyed. "You were going to kill him!"

"Yeah," Philip realizes, turning to Eacker. "I could've died just then."

"That's what happens in a duel, son," Eacker says coldly. "People could get hurt. They could die."

"Don't call me 'son,'" Philip growls. "I wasn't going to shoot you, you know. Dad told me to aim my gun at the sky."

"Fool," spits Eacker.

"No," Philip says, shaking his head fiercely. "I'm more honorable than you, Eacker. I will always have more honor than you."

He lets his gun fall to the cobblestones. Then he turns and glances over at us.

"Thank you," he says solemnly. "For saving my life."

"No problem," Miranda squeaks. Her gaze is darting back and forth between Philip and Eacker.

"Come on," Philip says to us. "Let's take a walk."

All three of us stalk away from George Eacker, leaving him standing alone in the street.

"So," Philip says. "Where are you from?"

Miranda and I exchange swift glances.

"We're from the West," I say vaguely. If Philip was supposed to die today, it meant the year was 1801. California became a state in 1850. I couldn't tell him we were from California- he would think we were crazy.

"Interesting," Philip comments. "What are you doing all the way in New Jersey?"

"Our parents passed away recently," Miranda lies. "So we left home and came here, hoping to start a new life."

Philip's gaze softens. "My condolences."

I feel bad lying to him, but I know that it's necessary. After all, we can't exactly tell him we come from the future!

"How old are you, anyway?" Philip questions.

"I'm fifteen," I say. "Miranda's fourteen."

Miranda rolls her eyes. She hates being reminded that she's younger than me, even if it's only by a few months.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Philip asks, sounding concerned.

"Um… no, we don't," I admit.

He grins. "Why don't you stay at my house? My parents won't mind. Neither will my siblings."

"How many siblings do you have?" Miranda asks.

"Seven."

"Oh my," Miranda breathes. She puts a hand to her mouth. "Sorry. That was rude."

Philip chuckles. "That's all right. So, would you like to stay with us?"

"We'd love to," I say gratefully.

"Wonderful!" Philip exclaims. We turn a street corner, walking down a nicely paved path surrounded by wildflowers. At the end of the path is a pretty little house, with painted white shutters, a sturdy-looking roof, and an oak door.

"Welcome home!" Philip announces. He leads us to the doorway and opens the door into his house.

I stare into the front room of the house. The floor is made from glossy wood. A small, knitted green rug decorates the center of the room, and, to the right, there's a leather sofa. In the back of the room is a doorway leading to a separate room, and to the right is a staircase.

"Philip!" a female voice chimes. "You're home!"

I notice a woman standing near the corner of the room, holding a broomstick. She's small, wearing an apron over her lavender dress. Her cinnamon-colored hair is pulled up into a bun, and she has crinkles around her blue eyes from smiling too much.

"Mother," Philip says with a grin. He enters the house and gives the woman a hug. When they pull apart, the woman notices us.

"Oh!" she exclaims. She glances at her son scoldingly. "You didn't tell me we were having visitors."

"Right," Philip says. He clears his throat. "Mom, this is Kay and Miranda." He nods in our direction. "Girls, meet my mother."

The woman walks over to us and extends her hand. "Eliza Schuyler. Pleasure to meet you."

I shake her hand and smile. "It's great to meet you, Mrs. Schuyler."

She winks at me. "Call me Eliza, please, dear."

Philip slips behind me and shuts the door. "Where are the kids?"

Eliza shrugs. "They're all off with their friends. It's just going to be you and me in the house tonight, Philip. Oh, and your new friends, if they're staying." She looks at us. "Would you like to stay the night?"

"Yes please," Miranda says gratefully.

"Now," Eliza continues. "I've been attempting to bake a pie for the last hour, and it hasn't been turning out so well, but I have some fruit if you're hungry." She guides Philip, Miranda, and me to the couch. "Tell me about yourselves, girls. How did you meet my son?"

"Well, Mom," Philip says hesitantly. "They- er- they saved my life."

"What?" Eliza demands. She glares at her son. "What did you do? Why would your life require saving?"

"I- um-" Philip coughed awkwardly. He mumbles something.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Eliza says.

"I challenged George Eacker to a duel," Philip repeats, a bit louder this time.

"You what?" Eliza sounds furious. "When was this?"

"I challenged him a few days ago. The duel was about an hour ago."

Eliza stands. Philip, who is sitting, is now eye-level with her. "How could you not tell me?" she asks him. "Why would you challenge him?"

"He was insulting Dad, Mom!" Philip responds. "I was defending him!"

"You could have gotten killed in the name of honor," Eliza mutters. She freezes. "Wait. Did your father know about this?"

Philip glances down sheepishly.

"He knew?" Eliza's voice climbs up an octave. "He was in on this too? Philip, you could have died!"

"But I didn't," Philip is quick to remind her. "Thanks to them." He gestures towards me and Miranda.

Eliza seems to remember that we're there.

"Thank you, girls," she breathes, her tone gentle. She envelopes us in a hug. "Thank you. For saving my son."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Sch- Eliza," I correct myself quickly.

Eliza furrows her brow, thinking. "Is Eacker dead?" she asks us. She turns to Philip. "Did you kill him?"

"No," Philip says. "I was never going to. I was aiming my gun at the sky, just like Dad told me to."

Eliza shakes her head sadly, just once. "Of course he did," she says. She straightens. "Now. Girls, run upstairs and pick out your rooms. Feel free to sleep wherever you'd like. Philip, follow me into the kitchen. I'm going to need your help in baking a pie."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I follow Miranda up the stairs. When we are on the second floor of the house and Eliza and Philip are out of earshot, I turn to my best friend.

"Six words," I tell her in a low voice. "We. Are. Staying. With. The. Hamiltons!"

Miranda and I lock eyes. Then we start bouncing up and down at the top of the stairs.

"This is so amazing!" Miranda squeals. "This is so awesome! I literally cannot believe this! We are the two luckiest girls in the whole world! We got to travel to the past and literally change history!"

At those words, our smiles fade.

"Do you think there will be consequences?" I murmur to her. "After all, we changed history. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that."

"What's the worst that can happen?" Miranda says thoughtfully. "We saved a life. We did a good thing."

"True," I sigh. "But… well, I'm still worried."

"Don't worry, Kay," Miranda says, patting me on the shoulder. "It'll be okay. Saving the life of Philip Hamilton shouldn't change anything too much. At most, a few songs from the Hamilton musical will change since he's not dead. That's all."

"Right," I say. "Everything will be perfectly fine."

Miranda gives me a thumbs-up. "Come on, let's find a room for us."

I survey the hallway. The steps are placed in the back end of the hallway, where we're standing. The hallway isn't carpeted, but the wooden floor looks polished and smooth. On the left side of the hallway are three doors, and on the right side are two more doors. All the way down the hallway there's an open door leading to a small bathroom.

"So… where should we stay?" Miranda asks.

"I feel kind of weird just barging into someone's room and deciding to sleep there," I admit. "Isn't that rude?"

Miranda shrugs. "I mean, Eliza told us to choose a room. Besides, we just saved the life of one of their family members."

"True," I agree. Still, though, I felt a bit guilty.

"Okay," Miranda says, taking a step into the hallway. She pushes open the first door on the right. "What about this room?"

I come to the doorway and peek inside. Two twin beds are separated by a small nightstand. There's a tiny little wardrobe, but not much else.

"Perfect," I tell her. "We can share it."

We both step into the room. I gently shut the door behind us and turn around to see that Miranda has already seated herself on the edge of one of the beds. I cross the room and perch on the other bed. The blankets are thin and warm, and there are no pillows, but I'm still extremely grateful for Eliza's generosity.

"How are we going to get back?" Miranda wonders.

Her question hangs heavily in the air.

"I… don't know…" I falter. I haven't thought really thought of it before. I'm just awestruck that we traveled to the past… but going back to the future? Panic bubbles inside me. I struggle to push it down. We'll find a way to get back home. We have to.

"I'm a little scared," Miranda realizes. I turn to her. She's staring at the ground. "I mean," she continues, "this is just so cool, you know? How many people get to go back in time, meet their role models, and change history? That's incredible. But… what if we can't go back home? This is crazy. What if we get stranded in the past forever?"

"That won't happen," I assure her, trying to sound braver than I feel. "We just need to enjoy this while it lasts. We'll figure it out."

"I hope so," Miranda says, but her voice is doubtful.

"Just be glad our T-shirts don't say their names on it," I joke. I nearly forgot we were wearing Hamilton shirts- but the shirts are simply black with the gold Hamilton star on them. There's no writing, so we're safe.

"True," Miranda says with a small smile. She hops off the bed. "Come on. Let's go back downstairs and see if Eliza and Philip have had any progress in baking that pie."

I grin and follow her out of the bedroom. We make our way down the stairs, through the living room, and to the kitchen.

It's a nice kitchen, I have to admit. Sunlight streams in through the open windows, lighting up the whole room. The wooden floor looks like it was recently sweeped, and there's a dark, glossy round table in the center of the room. To the left of the room is a small oven, which Eliza is hunched over. She faces us, holding a silver tray. I peer inside the tray. She's made a pie; it's slightly blackened, but still looks amazing.

"Hungry?" Eliza asks with a smile. She sets the pie in the center of the table and busies herself with pulling plates out of a cabinet that's next to the oven.

"A bit," Miranda says. I nod. We hadn't eaten since before we watched the Hamilton musical… and that felt like ages ago.

We sit down in the chairs surrounding the table as Eliza slices the pie.

"Where's Philip?" I ask her.

"He went to the market to buy some eggs," Eliza answers. "We ran out. Hopefully he grabs some milk while he's there, if it's cheap."

I nod. Eliza sets a steaming plate of pie in front of me. There's a small fork sticking out of the dessert. I take a bite.

"This is great, Eliza," I say honestly.

"Mmm-hmm," Miranda agrees, her mouth full of food.

Eliza beams. "Thank you, girls," she says.

We finish our meal in a comfortable silence.

As we're clearing our plates, the door to the house bursts open.

I whirl around just as Philip zips into the kitchen.

"Son, what's wrong?" Eliza asks in concern.

Philip is breathing hard. His face is flushed, and, I notice, he's not carrying any groceries.

He opens his mouth to speak. "George Eacker just challenged Dad to a duel!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Eliza, Miranda, and I all gape at Philip.

 _"What?"_ Eliza finally shrieks. "Eacker challenged Alexander?"

"Yes!" Philip answers. His eyes are panicked. "Mom, what do we do?"

Eliza strides towards her son. "Where are they now?" she demands. "George and your father?"

"In the market," Philip replies. "Eacker challenged him in front of everyone. And Dad accepted."

"Take me there," Eliza says. Her voice is angry, but the anger isn't directed at Philip. "Hurry."

She turns to me and Miranda. "Girls, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave you in the house alone for a bit. We'll be back soon, okay? Make yourselves comfortable."

I manage to nod before she and Philip rush out of the house, the door slamming shut behind them.

I immediately turn to Miranda. "This is crazy!" I exclaim. "This is all our fault, Mandy! We changed history and thought there wouldn't be any consequences… we were wrong!"

"Let's think about this for a moment," Miranda says, taking a deep breath. "What year is it?"

"1801," I reply promptly. "If Philip was supposed to die today, it means the year is 1801."

"Good," Miranda nods. "Alexander Hamilton is supposed to be challenged to a duel by Aaron Burr. What year is that supposed to happen?"

"1804."

"So… I guess since Eacker didn't kill Philip… he might be feeling angry. He probably wants revenge. So he decided to go after Philip's father."

"We can't let this happen," I say firmly. "Who knows what the consequences will be if we let Hamilton duel Eacker? What if they kill each other?"

"We need to set history right again," Miranda agrees. She sighs. "I just have no idea how."

I start to walk towards the door. "Come on," I call over my shoulder. "Let's just get to the marketplace. I want to see what's going on, exactly. Maybe then we'll think of a plan."

Miranda nods and follows me. We carefully exit the house, closing the door gently behind us.

Now that we're standing outside the Hamilton's house, we glance around the quiet streets. Every road looks exactly the same.

"So…" Miranda drawls. "Which way is the market?"

I bite my lip. "Er… this way," I decide, pointing to the road on the right, pretending to be more confident than I feel.

Miranda looks at me hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

I shrug. "There are two roads. We have a fifty percent chance of choosing the one that leads to where we need to go."

Miranda shrugs in return, and together, we start towards the road on the right.

After walking up the road, we hear shouts.

"I think we're going the right way after all!" I exclaim, speeding up my pace. "Come on, Miranda!"

I break into a full-out sprint, Miranda by my side. We come to a large, paved rectangular square lined with brightly colored tents and wooden stalls.

"Welcome to the market," I announce, pleased at my navigational skills. I breathe deeply. Mingling with the aroma of wildflowers, I can also smell salt, fruit, eggs, and spices. My ears are filled with the sounds of clucking chickens and overlapping voices.

Miranda and I walk down the slightly sloped hill that leads into the center of the market.

"There!" I yell, struggling to be heard over the jumble of other sounds. I gesture to where there is a very familiar-looking man standing on a barrel- which probably contained wine or beer.

"George Eacker," Miranda hisses through her teeth, anger flashing in her eyes. "What is he _doing?"_

Eacker, standing tall atop his barrel, seems to be making a speech.

"I, George Eacker," he announces, his loud voice carrying over the crowds of people, "hereby do challenge Alexander Hamilton to a duel."

He points down at a small man in the crowd. I follow his gaze. The man he is pointing at is wearing a rumpled, dark red suit, along with dusty shoes. His hair is slightly long, like he hasn't had the time to cut it in a while. His blue eyes are fierce.

"Miranda," I whisper in awe. "That's Alexander Hamilton!"

We exchange looks. But now is not the time to be fangirling over meeting the historical characters from our favorite musical.

"You can't do that!" a voice shouts, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Philip, who has climbed onto an overturned crate in hopes of making himself taller and more intimidating.

"And why not?" Eacker sneers. "You were too cowardly to duel me properly. Now your father will pay."

"Cowardly?" Philip shouts. "I was not a coward! I took up your challenge! I met you in the street! You shot at me!" His gaze is pure fury. "It isn't my fault that you don't know how to aim a gun! It's not my fault your bullet missed me!"

"No," I realize suddenly, spinning to Miranda. "It's not Philip's fault. It's our fault. We were the ones who had to mess up history. We did this." I swallow hard. "We should have just let Philip d-"

" _No._ " Miranda interrupts firmly. "No. Don't say that. Yes, in history, Philip died in a duel. But we saved him. We did a good thing, remember?"

"There are always consequences, Miranda," I say, a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Shh," Miranda says suddenly. "Something's happening."

I look back up to where Philip and Eacker are glaring at each other.

"I challenge you do a duel, George Eacker!" Philip announces. "I want to take my dad's place."

"Philip, no!" Hamilton yells from the ground. "Stop! I can duel Eacker!"

"Both of you dueling me?" Eacker says, sounding amused. "Now, that's a bit unfair, is it not?"

"What about a two-on-two duel?" a new voice asks.

From behind Eacker, a man has approached the scene. He has thick, dark hair, and is wearing a maroon suit with a red tie. He looks coolly uninterested in everything that's going on, and, for some reason, I flinch backwards from him. He radiates authority.

"Aaron Burr," Alexander Hamilton scowls. "What are you doing here?"

Miranda and I turn to gape at each other. _Aaron Burr?_

Burr chuckles softly. "Well, Hamilton, considering the fact that we're rivals, I don't want to pass up the chance to duel you."

"A four-person duel?" Philip scoffs, interrupting Burr. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Eacker asks softly, smirking. "I think it's a wonderful idea. Thank you, Aaron."

"My pleasure, George."

"Well, Mr. Burr, _sir,_ " Hamilton spits, "if it's a duel you want, it's a duel that you'll get. But leave my son out of this. What has he ever done to you?"

"True," Burr says, turning to Philip. "Philip, I have no quarrel against you. I don't wish to duel you."

"Wait, I want to duel him!" Eacker protests, but Hamilton, Philip, and Burr all ignore him.

"If you want to fight my father, you'll have to fight me too, Mr. Burr," Philip responds calmly.

Burr gives Philip a respectful nod. "Very well. Name the time and place."

"Tomorrow," Eacker suggests. "Noon."

"Philip, you don't have to do this," Hamilton pleads.

"Yes, Dad, I do," Philip responds. He turns to Burr and Eacker. "Tomorrow at noon. On the corner of Riverside and Heartsdale."

Eacker grins. "See you then, Hamiltons."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 _Crrreeeaaakk._

My eyes fly open. For a moment, I can't remember where I am, and panic presses down on my chest. As my eyes adjust to the darkness of the bedroom, everything comes back to me in a rush.

After Eacker and Burr challenged Philip and Mr. Hamilton to the duel, Eliza had brought us all back to her house and prepared dinner. The silence was palpable, and nobody really spoke, even though I could tell that the Hamiltons were doing their best to make me and Miranda feel welcome.

Philip had excused himself from the table early, saying that he was tired and wanted to sleep, and Eliza sent him upstairs. The rest of us had left the table shortly after that, and Miranda and I went to our shared bedroom, which was right across from Philip's.

Now, I can hear noises. Creaking noises, as if someone is creeping across the floorboards, trying to not wake anybody.

I push back the sheets of my cot and slowly stand up. Eliza lent me some of her pajamas, so I'm wearing a pale, long-sleeved shirt that's slightly too big for me and a soft lavender shirt that goes down to my knees. She also lent Miranda clothing, but since Mandy is smaller than me, she's practically swimming in her borrowed nightgown.

"Mandy," I whisper, making my way over to her bed. I put my hand on her shoulder and shake her gently. "Wake up!"

She sits up immediately. I watch as her eyes adjust to the dark room.

"What's wrong, Kay?" she whispers back.

"Do you hear that?" I ask.

"Do I hear wh-"

"Shh!" I interrupt. I put my finger to my lips. "Listen."

For a moment, there's just silence. Then we hear it again.

 _Crrreeeaaak._

Miranda stands up. Together, we tiptoe over to the door, which is slightly open. We peer through the opening, and see Philip. He's dressed like he was earlier today, and he's carrying his boots in one hand. He's wearing just socks on his feet, and I have a feeling it's because he doesn't want his parents to know that he's leaving the house.

As he creeps down the hallway and disappears down the staircase, I turn to Miranda.

"Where is he going?" I wonder.

"Let's find out," Miranda says to me. We pick up our shoes, which we left in a pile in the corner of the room, and put them on. When we hear a soft thump, telling us that Philip left the house and closed the door behind him, we race down the steps.

Miranda pulls open the door and I follow her, stepping into the cool night air. I yank the door firmly shut behind me.

"Over there!" Miranda says, pointing. I turn just in time to see Philip turn a corner and disappear down the street.

"Follow him!" I say softly, not wanting to make too much noise. We break out in a sprint, turning the corner after him.

Miranda lets out a quiet yelp and pulls me behind a nearby tree.

"Look," she whispers.

I peek out from behind the tree. In the middle of the street, I see two men facing one another. One of them is Philip. The other is Eacker.

And they're both holding a gun.

I gasp. "What?" I stammer. "But- but- the duel is tomorrow! And Aaron Burr and Mr. Hamilton aren't even here!"

"What's going on?" Miranda demands.

My stomach sinks as the pieces slowly start to come together. "Eacker didn't care about dueling Hamilton- he just wanted to duel Philip. Philip must've offered to duel him tonight in order to save his father's life. Mr. Hamilton and Burr probably don't even know that this is happening."

"We have to stop this!" I say frantically. Without thinking, I step into the street.

"STOP!" I scream.

Both Philip and Eacker whirl around in surprise. Miranda steps up behind me. They stare at us.

"Kay? Miranda?" Philip asks, like he can't believe his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"You can't duel him, Philip!" Miranda pleads. "What about your parents?"

He smiles sadly. "I'm doing this for them. I can't let Dad duel them tomorrow."

"What are we going to tell them?" I whisper.

He thinks for a minute. "Tell them… tell them that-"

He doesn't even get to finish his sentence.

I hear a loud bang that echoes in my ears and vibrates in my brain as Eacker points his gun at Philip and shoots.

I feel as if I'm watching the scene in slow-motion. The bullet whirls through the air…

… and finds its target.

Philip falls to the ground, his gun clattering to the cobblestone streets beside him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 _"NO!"_ I scream. My voice sounds almost as if it's underwater. I exchange a panicked look with Miranda, and I race forward. She, however, stands rooted to her spot, frozen in shock.

I can't believe I've just witnessed a murder.

I kneel down next to Philip. My heart races. He's dead. What are we going to tell the Hamiltons?

And then I see his eyelids flutter, and I realize that he's still breathing shallowly. Hope blooms in my mind.

I turn to Eacker. He's standing there, gun still in hand.

 _I can't tell him Philip's alive,_ I realize. _He'll just shoot him again to finish the job._

I lick my lips and stare Eacker in the eyes.

"You killed him," I say. "He's dead."

I hear Miranda choke back a sob. I feel awful that I'm lying in front of her, but at the same time, I'm relieved; if my best friend can't tell I'm lying, neither can Eacker.

To my absolute disgust, he grins. "Perfect," he wheezes. And with that, he turns and walks calmly away from the scene, standing proudly. I glare at his back until he disappears from view.

The moment he's out of earshot, I look at Miranda.

"We need to get Eliza and Mr. Hamilton," I tell her urgently.

She sniffs. "How are we supposed to tell them that their son is dead?"

"He's not dead!" I cry. "He's alive!"

Miranda blinks. "What?"

"I lied. I didn't want Eacker to know he was alive or he would have just shot him again-"

"- and then Philip would have actually died," Miranda finishes. She nods slowly. Then she turns and starts sprinting away from me.

"I'm going to get help!" she calls over her shoulder. "Stay there!"

"Okay," I whisper into the darkness. And then I'm left alone, kneeling in the street next to a figure from the past who is struggling to stay alive.

 _"Stay alive,"_ I hum to myself, trying to silence the buzzing in my brain. _"Stay alive…"_

By the time I finish singing "Stay Alive," I hear frantic footsteps coming up the street. Miranda comes into view, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton right behind her.

"Philip!" Eliza sobs, rushing to her son's side. Her face is covered in tears.

"My son," whispers Alexander. He stoops down to Philip's side. Then he looks at me. "Where was he hit?"

"His right arm," I respond immediately.

Mr. Hamilton then scoops up his son and gently rests him in his arms. I'm surprised; Philip is taller than his father, who seems a bit on the small side, and yet Alexander picks him up like he weighs nothing.

"Quickly, Eliza," he tells his wife. "Go get the doctor. Tell him to come to our house. Now."

"Okay, Alex," she answers. I hear a new steel in her tone that I haven't noticed before. She departs quickly, her boots clacking down the cobblestone.

Mr. Hamilton carries Philip down the street at a pace so fast, Miranda and I have to practically jog to keep up with him. We arrive at their house quicker than I would have thought possible.

I push open the front door and step into the living room. Alexander steps in right behind me and strides to the couch, lying Philip down.

I hear Miranda's shaky breath as she enters the house last, gently shutting the door.

We both stand awkwardly at the side of the room. Mr. Hamilton pays us no attention whatsoever, and, to be honest, I don't blame him. His son is dying.

I startle as the front door bursts open with a bang. Eliza sweeps into the room, a man standing in the entrance behind her. He's wearing a long white coat over a long-sleeved brown shirt and trousers. His black loafers look freshly shined, but his thinning blond hair is messy, as if he'd just rolled out of bed. His face looks tired but his eyes are alert, and in his hand, he's carrying a large leather briefcase.

Without a word, he walks over to the couch, putting his fingers to the side of Philip's throat.

As he does so, Eliza disappears into the kitchen, returning with a chair. She drags the chair to the couch, placing it close to Philip's head, and the doctor sits down.

"Is there anything we can get you, Jacob?" Mr. Hamilton asks the doctor. "Any way we can help?"

"No thank you, Alexander," Dr. Jacob answers. "Not yet."

He lifts his briefcase onto his lap and clicks it open, pulling out a stethoscope. He begins to listen to Philip's heartbeat.

At that moment, Eliza notices me and Mandy, huddling in a corner.

"Girls," she says quietly. "Maybe it's best if you go upstairs."

I nod mutely. We trudge up the steps and into the dark upstairs hallway, entering our bedroom and shutting the door.

I feel like I'm walking through wet cement as I make my way to my bed and sit down. Miranda sits on my bed too, burying her face in my pillow. She lifts her head up to look at me.

"He has to live," she whispers. Her face is illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the windows. "He just has to."

"I know," I choke out. My throat is bone-dry. I can barely talk.

"What do we do?" My best friend sounds desperate. "They've been so nice to us… and I can't help but feel that this is our fault…"

"It's not our fault." My voice comes out sharper than I intend it to. I sigh. I feel guilty. Did we do this, somehow? By messing up the past?

"He would have died," I mumble. "And we saved his life. That's a good thing… right?"

There's a moment of silence before Mandy answers me. "Right…" she says slowly. "There's still hope. He might live."

And there's the word- might. He might live.

Chances are slim.

Tension weighs down on my shoulders. Though it's probably well past midnight, I know there's no way I can sleep.

"Stay alive," I hear Mandy whisper into the darkness.

I swallow hard, a tear sliding down my face. "Stay alive."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I open my eyes to the feeling of warm sunlight on my face. I smile for a moment as I hear the birds chirp outside.

And then I remember.

"Philip!" I exclaim, sitting bolt-upright. Some time in the night, I had fallen asleep. I look around the room.

"Miranda?" I ask nervously. Where _is_ she? I remember that she was sitting on my bed with me last night, but now, I can't see her anywhere.

"Kay?" comes a voice from below. I peer off the edge of my cot. Miranda is curled up on the floor, waking up. She stretches and yawns, then freezes.

"Oh my gosh," she realizes. "Philip."

We both leap to our feet, stumbling to the door. I rush to the stairs and bolt down them, Miranda at my heels. We enter the living room, skidding to a halt.

Dr. Jacob is gone. Alexander and Eliza are turned away from us, staring at the couch, arms around each other.

"Mr. Hamilton?" I ask softly. "Eliza?"

They turn to face us. When I see Eliza's face, streaked in tears, my stomach sinks. But then her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

"He survived," she breathes. "He's alive!"

"Mom?" comes a weak voice from the couch. "Who are you talking to?"

They step out of the way and we see Philip, sitting up on the couch. His shirt is caked with blood, his right arm is covered in bandages, and he looks exhausted, but he's alive.

"You lived!" I cheer.

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess I did."

The entire room bursts into laughter. We're all so relieved, so glad…

When our laughs die down, Eliza straightens her spine. "I'm going to make some coffee," she announces. "All of you, come to the kitchen table, please." With that, she turns and marches into the kitchen.

Philip stands with some difficulty. He leans on his father's shoulder as he hobbles to the kitchen. Miranda and I sit on one side of the table as Philip and Mr. Hamilton take places at the other. Eliza hands us each a mug of black coffee. I hold mine in my hands, enjoying its warmth. She then sits down at the head of the table.

"Philip," she says seriously. "You almost died last night."

I exchange an uncomfortable glance with Miranda. I feel as if I'm intruding on a private family conversation.

Philip is staring down at his mug of coffee, shame filling his face.

 _"Why?"_ Eliza demands, her voice breaking. "Why did you do it, Philip? Do you know how much _pain_ you've caused us? We… we thought we were going to lose you forever. Do you even know what that feels like?"

"Mom, I-" Philip tries, but Eliza cuts him off.

"No," she says. "Of course you don't. You don't know what that's like, Philip, you have no idea. Why would you do that to us?"

I turn towards Mr. Hamilton. He's been silent this entire time, but he finally speaks.

"Son," he says gently. "Why?"

"I didn't want you to duel them, Dad," Philip sighs. "I didn't want you to get hurt. And Eacker must've known that, because he went up to me yesterday and asked me if I would duel him at night, without you or Mr. Burr. And I said yes."

Eliza shakes her head in despair.

"I can take care of myself, you know," Alexander says, not unkindly.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Dad," Philip says softly. Then he turns to his mother. "I'm sorry, Mom. I really, really, truly regret what I did."

Eliza smiles gently. "At least you're alive."

Mr. Hamilton nods in agreement. "You're alive, son. We're all going to be okay."

Philip suddenly looks at me and Miranda. "And it's all because of _you,"_ he says. "You girls saved my life- twice!"

"That's right," Eliza realizes. "Girls… you saved Philip's life! _Again!"_

Alexander Hamilton smiles at us. _"Thank you."_

"Yes," Philip says, grinning. "Thank you. How can we ever repay you?"

I exchange glances with Mandy. We both shrug.

"Actually," I realize, a smile slowly spreading across my face. "There is one thing you could do…"

Miranda looks at me, confused. "What do you mean, Kay?"

I turn to Eliza. "Do you have something to write with?"

"Yes, of course," Eliza replies, standing up. She rummages around the kitchen and then sits back down at the table, holding a quill and a bottle of ink. "Why?"

"And… um… do you have a napkin?" I ask hopefully.

Philip passes one to me from across the table, shooting me a puzzled look.

Miranda finally catches on to what I'm doing.

I take the quill and ink from Eliza and the napkin from Philip. "Do you three think… that you could maybe… sign your names on this for us?"

I bite my lip, waiting for an answer. Mandy leans forward in her seat.

"Why not?" Philip shrugs. "I don't know why you would want our autographs, but if this is what you'd like, we'd be more than happy to sign!"

I hand him the quill, ink, and napkin, and he scrawls his name down. He then passes the napkin to Eliza, who starts writing her name.

"Are you sure this is how you want to be repaid, girls?" she asks us. "I mean, this is such a small favor. You really don't want anything else?"

"Nope!" I say, beaming as she hands the paper to Alexander. "This is perfect. Thank you so much."

Alexander Hamilton signs my napkin before sliding it across the table, back to me. I pick it up and stare at the signatures for a moment. I literally cannot believe that I just got the signatures of the Hamiltons!

I meet Miranda's eyes, which are as wide as saucers. She's looking at the napkin in my hands like it's made of gold. I carefully tuck the napkin into my back pocket.

"Do you want one too, Miranda?" I hear Eliza ask.

"Yes, please!" I hear my best friend squeak in response. Philip plucks another napkin off the table and scribbles his name on it. Once that napkin has been passed around and signed, Eliza hands it to Mandy.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she squeals.

All three Hamiltons look at us like we're crazy. I laugh softly. This _is_ crazy. The fact that we travelled back in time, saved Philip's life, and got the signatures of our historical idols? If that's not crazy, then I don't know what is.

And then I remember something.

"Hold on…" I say slowly. "George Eacker thinks Philip is… dead."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Wow," Miranda whispers. "I totally forgot about that."

"Wait," Eliza says, sounding confused. "Eacker thinks Philip is dead?"

I nod. "After Philip was shot, I told Eacker that he was dead to keep him from shooting again. Eacker left… but now, if he sees Philip alive… he might just shoot him in the middle of the street to finish the job for good."

"And what about Burr?" Mr. Hamilton interrupts. "Is the duel with him still on?"

Philip sighs heavily, running his good hand through his hair.

"Um- can I have a word with Kay, please?" Miranda blurts.

I shoot her a puzzled glance, as does the rest of the table. Eliza nods at us, and we stand. Miranda pulls me out of the kitchen and into the living room, where nobody else will be able to hear us.

"Philip needs to die," she whispers.

I stare at her in shock.

"No, not _actually_ die," she corrects herself quickly. "But the entire world has to _think_ he's dead."

"I know," I agree. "If anybody knows he's alive, Eacker will kill him."

"Not just because of that," Miranda says.

I tilt my head, confused.

"In history, Philip died," Miranda continues. "Now that he's alive, history is totally changed. He needs to be dead in order for everything to be set right again."

I nod slowly, understanding. "So he needs to fake his death to the entire world. Even his _siblings_ need to think he's dead." I swallow hard. I can't even imagine how Philip's brothers and sisters will react to the news.

"But where will he go?" Miranda replies. "I mean, the only people who know he survived are you, me, Eliza, Alexander, and that doctor who treated him last night. So getting people to think he's dead shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But then what? He can't live here anymore."

We're both silent for a moment, thinking hard. And then I remember something.

"What about… Lafayette?" I suggest. The more I think about it, the better this idea seems. "Lafayette was one of Alexander's closest friends. They were practically family. He lives in France. Philip could live with him."

Miranda bites her lip thoughtfully. "I guess that could work…" She hesitates. "But what are we going to tell his parents? They're not going to want to part with their son."

"We have to try," I answer. Together, we head back into the kitchen.

The Hamiltons look up at us as we take our seats. Mandy and I exchange glances.

"We might have a solution," I begin, "but, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, you may not like it."

"What's the idea?" Philip asks warily.

"Well…" I take a deep breath. "You could go to France."

Nobody speaks. I can feel eight pairs of eyes focused on me.

"Mr. Hamilton… you have a friend that lives in France, right?"

"Lafayette," Alexander answers, understanding dawning across his face. "In order to protect Philip's life, everyone needs to believe that he's dead."

"But… what about Dr. Jacob?" Eliza argues. "And… what about us? What are we supposed to tell the rest of our children? And we're supposed to just send Philip off to France?"

"I suppose we could still go to visit once a year, if we did it quietly," Alexander counters.

"I'm going to France?" Philip says, bewildered.

"And how would he even get there?" Eliza persists. "Who's going to take him to France?"

"I don't need to be accompanied," Philip pouts. "I'm practically an adult."

"Dr. Jacob!" Alexander exclaims, completely ignoring his son. "We've known the doctor for so long. We can trust him. He'd be glad to take Philip to France; you know how he's always wanted an excuse to travel the world for his research. After dropping Philip off, Jacob can take the next boat back home."

"Okay," Eliza whispers finally. "If it will save his life, we can send him away." She looks at Philip. "What do you say, son?"

He smiles. "As long as you guys come and visit. And… don't tell my siblings that I'm dead. Please. Don't lie to them. They'll be able to keep the secret."

"All right, son," Mr. Hamilton assures him. "We'll tell them the truth."

"So… he's going to France?" Miranda asks in shock. I don't think she actually expected our plan to work.

"Yep," Philip grins. "I'm going to France!"

"Oh," Eliza says suddenly. "Shouldn't we check with Lafayette first?"

Mr. Hamilton shrugs. "Laf adores Philip. There won't be an issue."

"Now all we need to do is figure out what to tell Mr. Burr," Philip says.

Eliza stands up. "I'll go talk to him. I'll tell him about what happened last night and I'll let him know that Philip died. He'll call off the duel."

Eliza sweeps out of the kitchen. I hear the front door of the house open and shut as she leaves.

"I can't believe I'm leaving," Philip says quietly. "I'm faking my death."

"It's the only way," Mr. Hamilton sighs. "I'm sorry. But Lafayette will make sure you have a good life in France."

"I know," Philip agrees. "And I know how to speak French. I shouldn't have that much trouble fitting in."

"All right then, it's settled." Alexander stands, pushing back his chair. "Philip, come with me upstairs. We'll pack your things, and I'll write a letter to Lafayette telling him to expect you."

He then turns to us. "Girls, make yourselves comfortable."

He and Philip exit the kitchen. I hear their footsteps thump on the stairs.

"Miranda," I say to my best friend. "How are we going to get home?"

Her face pales. "I… I don't know. We got here by singing Hamilton lyrics while touching that magic sink, but…"

"... I doubt we'll find a magic sink here in the past," I finish with a sigh.

She swallows hard. "Kay… what if we can never get back?"

It's something I tried to avoid thinking about before. In the back of my mind, I held on to the hope that we would somehow stumble across a time machine that would take us back to the future. But what if that never happened?

What if Miranda was right?

Would we _ever_ be able to find a way home?


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Miranda and I are sitting on the couch, quietly discussing theories and ideas of how to time travel back to our century, when the front door is thrown open and Eliza enters the living room.

She glances to us and gives us a tired smile. "Burr called off the duel. I also told Dr. Jacob about our plan, and he agreed. He's meeting us at the docks in an hour."

 _"An hour?"_ Philip shouts from upstairs. "Dad, we've got to hurry up with this packing thing!"

"I'm trying!" I hear Mr. Hamilton respond. "It's not my fault your mother is insisting on you bringing so much stationary!" He then directs his words at his wife. "You realize they sell paper, quills, and ink in France, don't you, Eliza?"

Eliza rolls her eyes. "Hurry up, Alexander!"

I share a brief smile with Miranda. Hearing the Hamilton family argue is one of the most hilarious things I have heard in my entire life. And I'm still not used to the fact that I'm here, in the past, actually witnessing history.

There's a sudden _BANG!_ that rattles the floorboards.

I spin around so fast I nearly fall over. Was that… a gunshot?

I breathe a sigh of relief when I look at the bottom of the stairs. It was just Philip dropping an oversized trunk down the staircase.

Eliza groans when she looks at it. "Philip, throwing that down probably cracked the floors!"

"Sorry, Mom!" Philip responds from upstairs. "It can be kind of hard to move things around when your arm is in a cast!" He makes his way down the stairs, attempting to move the trunk with one hand, but his efforts are in vain.

Mr. Hamilton descends down the steps. Together, he and Philip struggle with Philip's things, but the trunk doesn't move an inch. Eliza watches them for a moment, amusement written across her face, before putting her own hand on the trunk. With one hard yank, she drags the trunk to the doorway.

Philip and Alexander stare at her in shock.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Alexander jokes.

Philip grins. "Seriously, Mom."

Miranda smiles at me. "Hashtag _respect,_ " she says.

We both realize her mistake at the same time.

"Hashtag?" Eliza asks us quizzically.

Mandy's eyes widen. "Um… inside joke between me and Kay," she blurts quickly. I nod enthusiastically.

The Hamiltons shrug, then go back to forcing Philip's trunk out the door.

I breathe a sigh of relief. We've already gone so long without accidentally revealing that we're from the future.

"Careful, Mandy," I murmur under my breath so only she can hear.

"Yeah, I know," she replies apologetically. "My bad."

"We did it!" I hear Eliza cheer. She, Philip, and Mr. Hamilton are all standing outside the house. They've managed to drag the trunk through the doorway. It now rests on their stoop.

"Come on, girls," Philip says to us with a smile. "Let's go."

As we walk towards the docks, Philip's trunk in tow, Eliza can't seem to stop looking around nervously.

"Eliza, act natural," Alexander reminds her for the tenth time.

"I know, I know," she says, breathing a sigh. "It's just… what if someone sees Philip? What if _Eacker_ sees Philip? Everyone needs to think he's dead, and yet, here we are, walking down the street with him in broad daylight!"

"Mom, relax," Philip assures her. "Everyone's too wrapped up in their own business to care about us."

I nod slowly, though I'm nervous, too. The sun is shining. As we walk down the dirt path to the marketplace, I feel exposed. Besides, once we reach the marketplace, everything is just going to get harder. We'll have to push through crowds of people- making sure to keep Philip unnoticed- in order to get to the docks.

"Well," Philip says, taking a deep breath. We're on the top of the small hill that leads down into the market. "Here we go."

We continue down the road. Alexander and Eliza walk in front, Philip hobbling behind them, and Miranda and I bring up the rear. We're doing our best to keep Philip hidden from view.

We finally enter the bustling crowds of people. I can hear the comforting sounds of noise and overlapping chatter. Philip was right; everyone seems busy. Nobody will notice us.

At least, that's what I have to hope.

"Oh no," Miranda breathes.

I turn to her. "What is it, Mandy?"

She gestures vaguely to her left. "Eacker."

I follow her gaze. George Eacker is standing in front of a small fruit stand, talking loudly and boastfully to another man… recognition dawns on me. It's Aaron Burr.

I tap Philip on the shoulder, and he glances at me over his shoulder. Without saying a word, I point to Eacker.

Philip's face pales. He nods once to me, then faces front again and whispers to his parents.

"We've got to pick up the pace," I hear Eliza say. "He's right there. The man who tried to murder our son is right there."

"We can't go any faster," Mr. Hamilton responds. "We'll only draw attention to ourselves."

"It's okay!" Philip assures them, relief filling his voice. "We're nearly there!"

I stand on my tiptoes to peer over Philip's shoulder. He's right- the harbor is in sight.

As we approach the water, the smell of salt and fish nearly overwhelms me. The squawks of seagulls and the shouts of fishermen fill the air. We're standing on the very last part of the dirt road. If we take one more step, we'll be standing on the creaky wooden docks leading out into the water. Boats surround the space in front of me, and I smile. We're about to set history right.

Mr. Hamilton and Philip walk ahead, continuing down one of the docks, while Mandy and I help Eliza with the trunk. We follow Alexander and his son towards the edge of the wooden platform, where I can see Dr. Jacob waiting.

"Hello, Hamiltons!" he calls as we approach. He nods at Philip. "Ready, my boy?"

"I'm ready, Doctor," Philip says with a grateful smile. "Thank you. For everything."

"Yes, Dr. Jacob," Eliza pants, finally managing to haul the trunk all the way to the end of the dock. "Thank you so much. I don't know… I don't even know how we could ever begin to repay you."

"Yes," Alexander agrees. "If there's anything we can do, please-"

"Nonsense," Dr. Jacob says kindly. "You gave me the chance of a lifetime. I've always wanted to visit France."

Suddenly, there's the loud honk of a foghorn. I flinch as a huge ferryboat pulls into the dock beside us.

"There it is," says Alexander. He lifts his hand to his face, checking his wristwatch. "Right on time."

From the boat's deck, a man dressed in white lowers down a thick wooden plank. Dr. Jacob picks up Philip's trunk and begins dragging it up the plank.

"I'll wait for you on deck, Philip," he says. Once he's disappeared onto the boat with all the stuff, Philip turns to his parents.

"Bye, Mom," he says, leaning forward and hugging Eliza with his good arm. "Bye, Dad." He gives Alexander a hug as well.

Eliza smiles at him, tears in her eyes. "Don't forget to write," she says softly.

"I'll remember," Philip assures her.

"Goodbye, son," Mr. Hamilton says. "We'll visit during the holidays, okay?"

"Okay," Philip nods.

He then turns to me and Miranda. "Thank you, Kay," he says. "Thanks, Miranda. You've saved my life more times than I can count."

"I'm pretty sure it was just twice," I say with a grin.

Philip laughs. "Anyway, thank you."

He steps onto the wooden plank leading up to the ship.

"Goodbye, everybody," he says, waving.

He hobbles lopsidedly onto the ship.

The boat begins pulling out into the harbor. Philip stands on the edge of the deck, waving at us.

We all wave back at him, but make sure not to call too much attention to ourselves. The boat soon disappears, fading to a tiny dot on the horizon.

I sigh in satisfaction. We did it. We set history right again.

"Well, girls," Eliza says. "Let's go home."

We turn and begin to walk back towards the marketplace. Eliza's words echo in my ears.

Home.

What home? Mandy and I may never be able to go home ever again.

As we enter the marketplace and wiggle our way through the crowds of people, Miranda elbows me in the ribs.

"Kay, look!" she exclaims.

I spin around, my breath catching in my throat when I see what she found. A small, red tent, nestled between different vending stalls and small shacks. A red tent… with a sign nailed to the ground outside the entrance.

 _The Traveller's Hub._

I exchange elated glances with my best friend.

Hope swells inside my chest. This is it! I'm sure of it! This has to be our way home.

"Eliza," Mandy says. "I think… I think it's time for Kay and I to go home."

Eliza looks at us for a moment and smiles. "Girls… you've done so much for us. Thank you."

"Get home safely," Mr. Hamilton adds. "And feel free to visit us whenever you'd like."

I can't help but beam. The Hamiltons are telling us that we could visit them? It would be perfect… except for the fact that we live in a different century.

"Goodbye, Eliza," I say with a wave. "Goodbye, Mr. Hamilton!"

"Please," he says, "call me Alexander."

I grin so widely my face hurts. Miranda takes my hand. Together, we back away from the Hamiltons and into the crowd, waving all the while.

Together, we make our way to the red tent.

Miranda pushes aside the tent flap. "After you."

I flash her a thumbs-up and enter the tent. She enters behind me, and the tent flap swings shut.

The tent is dim and cool. It's completely empty except for a small wooden box lying on the ground.

I kneel down and pick up the box. It's smooth, but plain, with not a single carving or decoration.

Miranda kneels down beside me. "What's inside?"

I pull of the lid of the box and lay it on the ground. Then I peer inside… only to see a small, pink bar of soap.

"Soap?" I ask in disbelief, examining the soap in my hand. "How's this going to get us home?"  
"Hey, we got here with a sink," Mandy reminds me. "Why not get home with soap?"

"Okay…" I hold out my hand, and she puts her hand on the soap as well. "Ready?"

"Ready," my best friend nods.

 _"History is happening…"_ we sing together. Our voices trail off. There was no explosion, no flash of light. We're still kneeling in the darkened tent, holding a bar of soap.

"It's not working!" Mandy's voice is panicked. "What do we do?"

"Um… try other lyrics!" I suggest.

"Okay…" I can see Miranda thinking hard. "What about… uh… _look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now!"_

Once again, nothing happens. We try a few more lines from different Hamilton songs, but in vain.

"This is pointless," I say, frustrated tears welling in my eyes. "We're never getting home. History is going to be fine, because we sent Philip on a ship to a new land, and, and, and all we want to do is get back to New York…"

It hits me.

"Alexander Hamilton, the first song in the musical," I tell Miranda.

"What about it?"

 _"Plannin' for the future, see him now as he stands on the bow of a ship,"_ I begin to sing.

Miranda's eyes light up and she joins me. _"In New York you can be a new man!"_

I feel wind begin to stir around us, picking up speed as it swirls around.

Mandy grips my hand and the soap tighter.

 _"In New York you can be a new man!"_

A roaring noise echoes in my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for it to end.

When the wind dies down, I open my eyes. Miranda and I are holding hands in a dirty old bathroom, our reflections appearing in the dusty mirror that hangs over a sparkling sink.

"Kay," my best friend breathes, looking at me.

"Miranda," I respond. I'm pretty sure my eyes are as wide as hers, if not wider.

We're both struck literally speechless. We can't say anything else; what else can we say?

"Well…" Miranda says, a grin splitting her face. "I guess we should probably go back out to the restaurant. I mean, our pizza is probably getting cold."


	11. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for reading this fanfiction all the way to the end! Another huge thanks goes to all the people who have left reviews and followed or favorited my story. If it weren't for you guys, I would have stopped publishing at Chapter 3, so thank you!

Please keep a lookout for my next story- it's going to be an Alice in Wonderland fanfiction.

Anyway, I hope you liked my writing!

(Fun fact: this was the 899th Hamilton fanfiction on this website.)

Thanks again! Have a great day, everybody!

~Rainy


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